Just As Planned
by Yautjan
Summary: Klavier didn't bargin for all this when he decided what to do with this day-but, somehow, he doesn't mind that he learned the truth behind it all. KlaverxApollo Super Spoilers T for language and some violence.


**My first new story in almost two years! And it's a half-fluff half-angst little ditty. I love this pairing so much. And I love this series. And I love Apollo. And I and I *head asplode***

**Spoilers for basically the entire game, T for bad language and broken noses.**

**Ace Attorney is owned by Capcom and Nintendo and stuff plz no sue me.**

Klavier woke up with a certain plan to how he would use this work-free day.

He'd taken it off—just a day to relax and not worry about the stresses of being a prosecutor, he'd said. Or a former rock star. There was nothing like sleeping in—though, apparently sleeping in was nine in the morning. That didn't really qualify…

Yawning, he pulled himself out of bed, nearly falling flat on his face in the process. He shuffled his way into the shower, and just let the warm water pour over him, waiting for it to either wake him up or burn his skin. Eventually he convinced himself that coffee would do the job better, finished up, and went downstairs in pajama pants and a t-shirt that was far too big for him.

He poured a cup of the steaming liquid, mixed his sugar and creamer in, and drunk it while scrolling through the internet on his phone. Nothing exciting—political turmoil, celebrity gossip _(what do you mean Rachel's been dating Joseph wasn't he with Katie?)_ and the occasional story that seemed to have _some_ value to reading. He scanned through what caught his eye and flittered away his time without as much as a notice to anything else.

Eventually, he grew hungry enough to make himself some toast with jam, and ate that as he looked distastefully at some leftovers in his fridge that needed to be thrown out. Weren't filthy rich people not supposed to even know what rotten food was?

He laughed at himself and threw the old meal away. Nah, he never bothered with those little niceties. Too much hassle. He didn't even live in that big a house. Moderation was a value he appreciated, even though it didn't seem so at first impression. Even though he was set for life, he never bothered with the huge explosive annoyances that belonged on the tabloids. That was why they were annoying.

As ten rolled around, Klavier dragged himself back up to his room and changed into real clothes—black jeans, black shirt, purple jacket, plenty of glamour. He also used this opportunity to brush his messy hair and twirl it into the little twist that he was so well known for. "Your unicorn horn," Detective Skye called it when she was in a bad mood. "Perfect for a glimmorous fop like yourself."

Another laugh rumbled through him as he flopped on his bed and grabbed his phone. A day off was a perfect day to start hitting up people—especially one person in particular. Maybe lunch, maybe dinner, maybe a movie, maybe _anything_. He was sure the person in mind was also free—he'd made certain of it before requesting his day off.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the phone was a little scratchy, but it was definitely one of Klavier's favorites.

"Ah, Herr Forehead!" he exclaimed, as if Apollo Justice had called him, and not the other way around. "Guten Morgen. Nice weather we're having, ja?"

"P-Prosecutor Gavin!" Apollo gasped. "Uhm, uh, yes, I…suppose? Can I ask why you're calling?" He was definitely nervous—nervous in the way women got around Klavier when he flirted with them. And he hadn't even done anything yet.

A dazzling grin broke across Klavier's face that only the ceiling was privy to. "Ach, nothing too special, Forehead. I was given the day off and I wanted to know if you were busy." Lies, lies, lies. But whatever. They weren't that important.

He could almost see Apollo's boyish face, bright red with embarrassment. He hadn't met a person more easily flustered than Herr Forehead, and it amused him greatly. "Uh, I, uh, no, I'm, uh, n-not busy at all. Just paperwork, really…" Klavier had a mental image of the lithe defense attorney wringing something in his free hand, bushing furiously, and he smirked.

"Well, then, since we've established we've no plans, how would you feel about doing something for the day? Lunch maybe?"

Apollo started to stammer something that was not going to be decipherable for about forty seconds, but something slammed in the background, and Apollo spoke to someone who must have just walked in his room. Klavier couldn't understand most of it, but eventually the defense attorney got back on. "Uh, actually, Mr. Wright just demanded I help clean the office… b-but…uh, if… you w-would still like t-to…"

"Dinner, then?" Klavier offered. "And maybe a walk in the park? We could even throw in a bottle of wine afterwards if you'd like."

He bathed in the sound of a very flustered man becoming even more flustered. "Y-yeah! Sure! I…I mean, if…yeah, okay." Apollo took a deep breath. "Okay."

"Right!" Klavier sat back up. "I'll pick you up at say…seven?"

"S-seven would be great!" Apollo exclaimed. Then, hurriedly, "I mean, uh, sure."

Klavier laughed. "Okay, then, Forehead, I'll see you then." He hung up, and flopped back onto his pillows, stretching his arms above him and grinning like a teenage girl. How _long_ he'd been wanting to take his court rival out for something. Why did fate decree that the man who would best him in court would also be one of the goddamned _cutest_ little things he'd ever laid eyes upon?

He rolled onto his stomach, crossing his arms beneath his head, chuckling to himself. Cute indeed. It was like some higher power put everything that appealed to Klavier—slight, small, preciously adorable, but scary intelligent, and that _stare_—into one package and sent it barreling his way. And as a bonus, this little God-given gift had managed to dispel many of the demons haunting him, giving him the freedom to think about his own life. And how much he wanted it to include the defense attorney who'd unwittingly swept _the_ Klavier Gavin right off his feet and onto his pretty-boy face.

(o)

Seven came around eventually, and Klavier wasted no time in grabbing an extra helmet and jumping on his motorcycle and barreling down the road towards the Wright Anything Agency. As he drove, he couldn't help but wonder what Apollo had chosen to wear on their little excursion—hopefully not his courtroom attire. As nice as it was, he'd wanted to see the defense attorney in something different—maybe blue? Of course, he himself was basically wearing the same thing he always did, but whatever.

Three minutes after the promised arrival time, he pulled up in front of the small agency that had once been the office of one of the greatest lawyers California had to offer. In some ways, it still did, but Klavier's personal opinions didn't always match the publics. Apollo was still just too new.

He parked his hog and threw his helmet over the handlebar—he wasn't worried about it getting stolen—and walked up to the agency, knocking on the door.

There was a response after a few moments, and Apollo opened the door, looking faint with nerves. He was wearing an airy white dress shirt and a green vest and black slacks. Certainly not his normal, but it suited him wonderfully. His face was tinted cherry red as he looked at Klavier. "Uh, hi," he said, clutching the doorframe.

"Herr Forehead!" Klavier said. "You certainly look different when you don't like you've been attacked by red paint." He laughed when Apollo blushed even harder. "Shall we be leaving?"

"Ah, hold on, Gavin." Klavier looked up as Phoenix Wright appeared behind Apollo, startling him. He had a knowing smirk on his face. "I just wanted to confirm you boys weren't planning to go off and get totally wasted. It'd be a shame if I had to tell Trucy our source of income killed himself because he got drunk and tripped over a barstool."

"M-Mr. Wright!" Apollo protested. "Please! I'm not going to get wasted!"

Klavier had a feeling Herr Wright knew exactly what the blond prosecutor's motives were. Everything from his stance to the look on his face screamed the obvious. He was just amused—probably with Apollo's spluttering obliviousness.

"I know that. You're too good of a kid to get totally wasted. On your own." Phoenix laughed at the expression on Apollo's face—somewhere between horror and embarrassment. "Now run along, you two, I need to head to Trucy's magic show soon, and I have to look somewhat presentable." Also known as, grab another bottle of grape juice and be on his merry way.

Klavier grabbed Apollo by the waist and pulled him out the door, grinning as Apollo gasped and shuttered at the sudden gesture. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of him. No drunk motorcycle races or anything."

"No drunk—wait, what?" Apollo cried, but Phoenix had already laughed and said goodbye and shut the door on them. Realizing it was just him and Klavier, he pulled away, trying to wipe the blush away from his face. "U-Uh…Mr. Gavin—"

"Come on, Herr Forehead. And call me Klavier, please." Klavier walked back to his motorcycle, watching Apollo trail apprehensively behind him, wringing his wrist. The prosecutor grabbed his spare helmet and tossed it to Apollo, who balked at the idea of having to ride a _motorcycle._ With _Klavier Gavin_ of all people.

"What, afraid?" Klavier teased, shooting Apollo a heart-melting grin as he jumped on his hog. The defense attorney grunted something under his breath, and swept his spikes against his head so he could put the helmet on. "Very befitting. Now, shall we ride into the sunset like in some old western movie?"

"No," Apollo said, hesitantly getting on the motorcycle behind Klavier. "Because that would mean we'd have to sit here for two hours to go anywhere."

"Ach, don't get worked up, ja? The night awaits." Klavier jammed his key into the ignition, kicked the motorcycle into gear, and took off down the street. Apollo cried protest and grabbed the nearest thing he could—which happened to be Klavier, who simply chuckled and said nothing, only finding surprise in how strong Apollo's grip was, even though he didn't seem to be trying very hard.

(o)

They ate dinner at a Japanese place, one that was not very well known and so would not be swarmed with rabid fan girls. The cuisine was fantastic though—definitely worth the cost.

As soon as they sat down, someone came running over with menus and drinks. Neither man was certain just what the drinks were, but they certainly tasted good. When the waitress left, Klavier instantly started moving in on his prey.

"So, Apollo. How's life been to you recently? Any electrifying cases to make you lose years on your life?"

Apollo didn't find the question odd, so he managed to finish swallowing without a hassle. "Hmm… Nothing too exciting. Some easy cases, some disappointing cases… Lots of liars, though." He twisted his bracelet around his wrist almost unconsciously. "I don't mind tearing the lies apart, though. It's good practice…"

"Practice for that little thing you do in court?" Klavier prompted. He had always been interested in just what the whole meaning behind the little ticks and habits that Apollo could always pick up but no one else could was. "Where you stare at people until they feel like crying?"

"Eh…yeah." The defense attorney wrung his arm more tightly. It seemed like he wasn't ready to talk about it yet. Maybe some wine would change his mind later… He picked up the menu and scrutinized the meal choices, and Klavier did the same, even though he knew what he wanted. It gave him a moment to collect his thoughts.

The waitress made her reappearance at that point, and took their orders. She gave Klavier an odd look, then moved on, taking their menus away under her arm.

"Does that happen to you a lot?" Apollo asked when she was out of ear shot.

"Oh, ja." Klavier flexed his shoulders. "All the time. It gets tiring sometimes. It's nice to know there are some people who see me as a prosecutor before a celebrity, though." He treated Apollo to one of his best grins, one that felt a lot more genuine than usual, and this time Apollo did choke on his drink.

"A-Are you talking about me?" Apollo coughed, wiping his face with his napkin. "Because…I, uh…well…"

'You what?" Klavier asked coyly, resting his chin on his hands.

"Nothing!" Apollo said suddenly, bright red again. "Nothing at all… Never mind." Something told Klavier that there was something else besides a prosecutor and a rock star that the little attorney saw him as, but he decided not to press. He had a feeling.

"You're never minded, Herr Forehead," Klavier teased. God's gift indeed. "Tell me about your family, then?"

"Family?" Apollo echoed. "Eh… I don't have any. I'm an orphan." If his wrist was a neck, his hand would have been dead with how tightly he had grasped his arm.

Klavier sat back with surprise. He hadn't really seen that one coming. "Ah…I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"That's because I never said," Apollo replied with a wry smirk. "But yeah. I was abandoned around my first birthday. I didn't even have a last name at that point. They just let me pick my own out when I was about five."

"So you don't know what your real last name is?" Klavier wondered.

"No." He was wringing his wrist again. Klavier was starting to wonder if it was just coincidence. "All I had was my first name and this bracelet." Apollo sat back. "I lived in an orphanage until they decided I was too unruly to live there and threw me into foster care, when I was about nine. I got shipped about until I was about sixteen. At that point, I left and moved in with some friends, finished high school, got some scholarships and grants and went to law school. Things are certainly better now."

Klavier blinked blankly, staring at Apollo. He never would expected that the brilliant-if-clumsy attorney was an abandoned child who grew up with basically no security in his life. "I'm sorry, Apollo," he said sincerely, startling the brunette. "I really am."

"Eh, it's not your fault," Apollo shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I'm doing fine now. Who needs family when you have friend drama like I do?" He laughed half-heartedly. "Famous lawyers and prosecutors and magicians and rock stars… There's no end to it."

"Ah, but I suppose the real question is, do you want it to end?" Klavier asked, smiling.

"Never," Apollo replied, smiling back, though perhaps a little more lopsided than Klavier.

Their food made its appearance then, and the men busied themselves eating it, cracking jokes in between bites. Klavier reveled in how much more comfortable Apollo seemed, and used the opportunity to fluster him as much as possible—which was still considerably easy. In response, though, Apollo pulled many surprisingly witty comments out of no where that left Klavier too breathless with laughter to crack as many jokes as he'd have liked.

The sun had set by the time they finished dinner. Klavier paid the bill, and they left, climbing onto the motorcycle—even though Apollo still protested.

"Where would you like to go next, Forehead?" Klavier asked before he started the bike, so he could be heard. "There is always still time for wine at my place."

"Wine, eh?" Apollo pretended to think about it. "Sure."

"Right, then!" Klavier said. Then, "…Oh, shoot, I don't actually have wine at the moment. I suppose that means I'll have to go to the store."

"Hmm… That would certainly pose a dilemma." Apollo leaned forward, looking past the office building across the street from the restaurant. "There's a store on the other side of that alley. We could just walk there."

"Ja? Might as well." They jumped off the bike—Apollo did so gladly—and made their way across the street and down the shady path.

"Little frightening in here?" Klavier teased as a cat jumped off a dumpster, and Apollo jumped slightly.

"Nah," Apollo said. "Cat just scared me some. I saw you jump, too." Of course he would. He never missed things like that.

They didn't encounter anyone in the alley, and they reached the store without hassle. However, the inside of the store already imposed a problem. "Huh…" Klavier said. "There's a reporter in there. I've seen her at numerous events."

"Media," Apollo spat. "I'll go in alone, then. That way they won't mob you."

"Good plan," Klavier agreed, reaching for his wallet.

"Don't bother," the brunette said. "You paid for dinner." And he was in the store, acting totally normal, like he wasn't buying wine to share with _the_ Klavier Gavin. Said man found himself wondering what part of the conversations they'd shared over dinner had made him more comfortable.

_You know which part, Klavier,_ he thought to himself. _His family….or lack thereof. I wonder why he kept strangling his bracelet, though… _

Apollo remerged, looking slightly peeved but not horribly so, a paper bag in his arm. "I got carded!" he exclaimed. "The dude just about had a heart attack when he saw that I'm twenty-three! He said I looked like a high-school kid!"

That was because he did, but in a way that was ridiculously endearing and adorable. "I get carded too, don't worry," he offered. "Don't worry about it. What did you get?"

"I…I'm not actually that sure," Apollo admitted, as they crossed the street and went back into the alley. "It was red, and it was expensive. I think that means it's good… I normally don't drink wine, so…"

"Whatever you got will be fine," Klavier laughed. "It's all just fermented grapes, anyway."

"You have a point," Apollo agreed. "I guess that's why Mr. Wright only drinks grape juice, because wine is—"

"Freeze!"

Both attorney and prosecutor were startled when suddenly there were men in front of them, blocking their path. They had to have been hiding behind the trash that littered the alley, waiting for them. Klavier looked behind him, and saw four more behind. Trapped.

The one who had spoken was the center man of the five in front, and he was holding a knife. Now that Klavier got a better look, he realized they were about Apollo's age, and were just small-time gang members. "Alright, you know the drill!" the man snapped, sounding only slightly nervous. "We want whatever money and valuables you've got!"

"…Well, damn," Klavier muttered, stepping backwards and in front of Apollo. The brunette tensed, watching the armed men close in. "Sorry, we don't really have anything we can give you. We're pretty broke."

'That's bull," said one of the attackers behind him. "We saw you guys on that motorcycle. That's definitely worth something!"

Klavier turned to give the kid who'd spoken a glare, and four of the men sprung, grabbing both lawyers by their arms and jerking them away from each other. "Ah!" Klavier gasped, pulling against the arms that held him. "Let us go!"

"Hey, boss!" one of the men said, the one who'd grabbed Apollo's left arm. "Look at this!" He jerked the brunette's arm forward and held it up, letting the dying sunlight reflect off of his golden bracelet.

The armed man who'd first talked to them stepped over, took one look at the bracelet, and punched Apollo in the gut. "You!" he growled. "_You!_"

The brunette coughed violently, doubled over, but raised his head enough to glare at the man. "Eh? Well, Evan, I didn't expect to see you tonight."

"Wait—you _know_ these people?" Klavier demanded, struggling to break away and punch the lead bastard in his ugly face.

"What a coincidence, eh?" the man called Evan said. "You know, the boss didn't like it much when you snitched on us and ran, Polly. I spent four years in prison because of you, man! But now I'm the boss, and I'll be happy to make you pay us those four years back."

Klavier wasn't sure which part was more surprising—Evan's words, or the part when Apollo pulled his arm free and sucker punched Evan in the nose.

The two men restraining Apollo started enough that the lithe brunette could slip free entirely—and at which point he knocked the knife out of Evan's hands and threw him against a wall, smashing his fist against the man's jaw. Evan countered with a glancing blow to Apollo's temple, but it didn't phase him enough for Evan to escape a third punch that broke his nose.

He panicked. "Run! Run!" he screamed, and fled like a beaten puppy. His lackeys followed, not wanting to be left alone with the crazy man who couldn't have been more than five and a half feet tall and a hundred ten pounds.

Apollo leaned against the wall when they were gone, rubbing his stomach and coughing painfully. "…Certainly wasn't expecting that, tonight…" he grumbled.

Klavier slowly picked the abandoned grocery bag with its miraculously unbroken bottle still inside up, and watched Apollo warily. "A…are you alright?"

"Yeah," the brunette said, inhaling sharply and standing straight. "Sorry about that…uh…" He looked down at the ground, embarrassed.

"I don't care who those guys were," Klavier said, deciding he really didn't. "I just want to know that _you_ are okay."

Apollo gave him a long, curious look, then somehow managed to look embarrassed again and looked away. 'I'm fine! Just…a little spat over some past stuff."

Klavier was dying with curiosity, but he restrained. "Let's get somewhere safe before anything gets discussed, ja?"

"Good idea," Apollo said.

(o)

By the time they arrived at Klavier's place, the moon had risen and the stars were out. A small bruise had formed on Apollo's temple, and assumingly a much larger on his stomach, but he didn't seemed bothered by any of it as they went inside the house.

"Nice place…" Apollo said. "Much nicer than my apartment. Not as frilly as I was expecting, though…"

"Meh," Klavier said, leading the younger lawyer to the living room—specifically, to his favorite couch. "I hate the frills."

Apollo smirked, sitting himself on the couch somewhat painfully and pulling the bottle of wine out of the bag as Klavier hunted through an end table's drawer for a bottle opener. When he found one, he grabbed some glasses off said end table, set out for such an occasion, and poured them both a decent amount of what turned out to be merlot.

"Not bad," Klavier mused after taking a sip, settling himself on the couch cushion next to Apollo. "Your subconscious has surprisingly good taste."

Apollo lowered the glass from his own lips, absorbing the flavor. "Hmm…certainly not what I'm used to, but you're right. I should ask my subconscious for advice more often."

Klavier laughed, but it quickly tapered into an awkward silence, which Apollo used to drink more wine. Finally, he had to ask. "Uhm… Forehead?"

"Let me guess. You want to know about the idiots who attacked us." The brunette set his glass down. "There's not much to say. High school was easy and I was a rebellious orphan in a bad family. I passed all my classes to please the bastards and spent my nights running around with idiots. Eventually I got bored of it, told the police where they hung out, and ran away from foster care so the social workers would stop bothering me."

"Ah." Klavier felt the tension seep out of his shoulders and back. "Are you okay, then? That one man…whatever you called him…he seemed furious."

Apollo made a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff. "Evan? Yeah, but it's no big deal. He won't remember me for long. And if he does, he'll remember I kicked his ass. Again." His laugh was traced with bitterness, but not much.

"He still got you pretty good, though," Klavier warned softly. "Your shiny forehead's more swollen than my ego."

This time, his laugh was the real deal. "Oh, come on, if my face was as swollen as your ego, the bruise would weigh as much as I do!"

"Hmm, a five pound bruise would suck, wouldn't it?" Klavier teased.

"Oh, come on, I'm not _that_ small…" He mock-pouted, crossing his arms. "I just…haven't gotten very tall. Or gained any weight since high school."

"So, wouldn't that make you a fat high-schooler by today's standards?"

"No way! ...I mean, if I was a girl in my old school, I would be, since most of them were conformist idiots... But I'm not. Nobody picked on me, though, so all was well."

"Probably because your dazzlingly shiny forehead distracted them all."

Apollo laughed again, and his mood seemed to be cured. He took another drink of wine, and he sat back into the couch, content that bygones were now bygones. "So…Klavier?"

"Ja?"

"How come you called me? Don't you have plenty of…of other friends who don't fight you in court or beat random people up?" Apollo shifted uncomfortably—now that he was done reminiscing, he seemed to focus on the present—which, of course, made him giddy and nervous.

"Well, first of all, I would plead self defense on the beating of random people." He offered up a coy smirk. "But otherwise, I just simply decided that I'd like to get to know you better, that's all."

"…Ah…" Apollo nodded to himself, looking slightly put out, taking another drink of wine. "Okay."

And at that point, Klavier was certain that, despite the little fight in the alley, this day was turning out just as he'd imagined. And hoped.

"However," Klavier continued suggestively, "I could tell you a few more reasons for this whole little thing."

"Y-you could?" And there was the Apollo Klavier knew. Flustered, simple, ridiculously adorable. And apparently a good fist fighter.

The blond grinned. "Sure. I was lonely. I didn't want to just spend my day off with anyone, though. I figured 'hey, now that I'm no longer having to worry about my rock star life, I could worry about the people that I care about'. Starting with the one who's been making me the most crazy." He poked Apollo in the shoulder.

"I-I..I've been making you…crazy?" Apollo asked. He turned in his seat, looking Klavier straight in the eye. "How…?" He was _daring_ to hope! It was time to land the finishing blow.

"Because," Klavier said, and this time his smile was completely real. "You're the most amazing person I've ever met. And I was losing my mind trying to decide if you felt the same way I did." He leaned in, gently resting his hand on Apollo's shoulder, right at the base of his neck. "I think I've got it figured out, now."

The brunette visibly swallowed and exhaled sharply, his warm, wine-scented breath brushing Klavier's face. He was literally shaking with anticipation. "D-do you, now?" he demanded, softly.

"Why, yes, I think I do." Klavier slid his hand up Apollo's neck, letting it rest on his cheek. "I'll even give you irrefutable, decisive evidence."

"Your evidence is never decisive," Apollo countered, blushing furiously. "I always shove it back in your face."

"You can shove this evidence back in my face all you want." Klavier smirked, reveling in how cheesy the entire conversation was turning out to be, and kissed him.

At that point, he knew Apollo had been expecting it, and was delighted when the gesture was returned with little hesitation after the pause of initial shock. Klavier leaned in further, pushing Apollo back against the arm of the couch, and the brunette grabbed his sleeves, holding himself firmly in place. The blond's arms slid down around his waist, pulling him closer, and the lithe attorney let out a little grunt of pleasure.

Apollo broke away for air, gasping, only millimeters away from the prosecutor. "K-Klavier…"

"I'd say that's pretty decisive, ja?" Klavier joked, before kissing him again.

He felt the attorney's arms curl around his neck, and the brunette pulled himself up some, to get more leverage. Klavier laughed into his lips and pushed him back down, in some sort of mock contest of dominance. He felt Apollo grin—and suddenly Klavier found himself on his back, pinned under the much smaller man, who was still locked in the kiss.

"Don't forget that I beat random people up," Apollo reprimanded softly, without pulling away.

"Nein," Klavier replied, tightening his grip on the attorney's waist. "I'm not scared of you, Forehead." He dug his foot into the side of the couch, and used the leverage and his superior size to flip over, reversing the situation.

Apollo let out a slight gasp of pain, and Klavier recoiled slightly, pushing his stomach off Apollo's with his wedged leg. "Ach, sorry!" he whispered.

"Don't sweat it," Apollo smirked, though he did seem bothered by the wound on his stomach. Klavier pulled him up, sitting back and resting the wounded brunette against his side, arm wrapped tightly around his ridiculously thin waist.

The blond prosecutor shift so he could look down at Apollo, who looked vaguely disappointed. "Hey, I'd rather not crush your poor ribcage in," Klavier argued gently, resting his free hand on the brunette's stomach. "Can I look at it? Please?" He threw in his best puppy-dog look.

Apollo crumbled without really even trying to resist. "It's not that big a deal…" he muttered, though he didn't sound upset by the idea. Klavier clucked at his grumbling, shifting the lithe man so he was lying down across Klavier's lap, supporting his head and shoulders against the arm of the couch. "Just a big bruise, probably."

"Ach, but it's a big bruise on _my _Herr Forehead," Klavier argued, and he felt Apollo shiver against him. The blond undid Apollo's vest, slowly and deliberately until the brunette was squirming restlessly. "Calm down! Mein Gott, it's not like I'm undressing you like some pervert."

Apollo muttered something he could not understand.

"Fine, be that way," Klavier joked, all smirk. "Now, let's have a look at the damage, shall we?" He tugged Apollo's shirt up, revealing his stomach—and the nasty, fist-sized black and blue bruise right below his ribs. "Oh, ouch…"

Apollo struggled to sit up and look at the wound. "Huh. It feels worse than that."

"You've had worse than this?" Klavier asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Did you even notice the scar on my hip?" Apollo grinned. "Or were you too busy being fascinated by my amazing muscles?"

Klavier looked again—he'd been too focused on the bruise to realize it had been cushioned by a solid six-pack. "Jesus, Apollo. You don't look this fit when you're wearing a shirt."

"That's because I don't need to flaunt it," Apollo replied, shifting into a more comfortable position. "And I don't like swimming."

"Really? That's a shame." Klavier pushed Apollo away from him by an inch, so he could get a better look at his side. It took a moment for him to find the faint white mark, but there it was. It actually looked like…

"Shiv," Apollo said, without looking up from the position he'd snuggled into. "It didn't go in very deep, but _damn_ did it bleed. My foster dad just about beat me to death when I got home that night."

Klavier stared. "Shiv? Someone _shived _you? Why?" Why would anyone do that to such an innocent-looking person?

"Because." Apollo stretched slightly. "I'd been in fight. I corrected some idiot on some little fact and he punched me, so I punched him, and he punched me again, and I broke his jaw, and he grabbed something sharp off the ground and got me right on the side."

Klavier rubbed his thumb over the jagged line, frowning in slight disbelief. "And…your foster dad…beat you because of this?"

The brunette opened one eye, peering at Klavier with one of his intense lawyer stares. "Yeah. He was a whole new level of asshole. Drunken idiot, all the time. He'd suspected I'd been running around with a gang, so when he saw the bruises on my face and all the blood, he basically exploded." He closed his eye and leaned forward slightly, burying his forehead in Klavier's side with a bitter sigh. "You should see the scar on my back where he hit me with his beer bottle."

"Apollo…" Klavier murmured, reaching up and running his hand through the attorney's thick hair, letting his spikes slip between his fingers. "I…I'm so sorry. I had no idea that you…"

"Hey, don't worry about it." Apollo looked back up. "It's all in the past."

"I wish I could hunt the bastard down and prosecute him for child abuse," Klavier grumbled.

"You did, actually," Apollo responded, startling the blond. "Well, in a sense. He got arrested for hitting a woman while driving drunk about four years ago, and I found out recently you prosecuted the case and got his ugly ass thrown in jail. Wish I'd been there to mention the abuse, but what's done is done."

Klavier bit his lip, going back through his memories—he vaguely remembered a drunk hit and run from around four years previous, but it had been too easy of a trial to really store in his memories. "I'd love to try him again, though. Just to get back for what he did to you."

"I'll visit him at some point," the brunette said. "Laugh in his bloated face, show him what I've become. It doesn't matter."

Klavier ran his thumb across Apollo's cheekbone. "I'll come with you, if you want."

Apollo smiled softly, and pushed his head into Klavier's hand, rough from playing the guitar without a pick. "Thank you."

The prosecutor leaned down and kissed Apollo on his head, right next to the small bruise on his temple. "Hey, don't be thanking me."

"No, I will thank you… for listening to me." He pulled his shirt back over his stomach, and curled up like a content cat, still sprawled across Klavier's legs. "Even Mr. Wright doesn't know any of this…"

"I won't tell anyone," Klavier promised. "Swear on my bloated ego."

Apollo laughed. "Oh dear, now the whole world's gonna know."

Klavier wrapped his arms around Apollo, chuckling, and pulled him up into a more seated position, letting the small brunette rest his head in the crook of his neck. "Oh, come on, can't you trust me?"

"_Nein,_" Apollo grinned. "You can't trust prosecutors, especially the glamorous and sparkly ones." He pressed a kiss against Klavier's jaw sleepily. "Especially the sparkly ones."

"I'm not a vampire, _Liebe_," Klavier reprimanded, amused. "Because otherwise I vould haf to zuck your blood."

His accent so was terrible that Apollo started cracking up, and found himself unable to stop despite gasping for air and clamping his jaw shut. Klavier laughed at Apollo as he struggled to contain himself, and soon they were giggling like school girls just because they could.

Klavier caught his breath first, pulling the attorney closer, even though he was already practically strangling him against his chest. "Apollo… You really are the most amazing person I've ever met."

"You're getting sappy," Apollo warned, still shaking with soft laughter. "But…really, I…" He trailed off, biting his lip and wringing his wrist again.

Klavier nuzzled his nose into the brunette's hair. "You love me?" he finished.

"Ah! I-I…I…y-yeah…I..." Klavier had never seen Apollo's face such a bright red before.

"That's okay," he assured. "Because I love you too."

Apollo stared at him for a moment, then he relaxed, and snuggled right back up into him. "…I figured. Your evidence was pretty decisive, after all."

"I knew it," Klavier grinned. "This time, you can't escape my traps."

"I'm not intending to." Apollo exhaled deeply, and for a moment, Klavier thought he'd fallen asleep on him. But then, "Klavier?"

"Ja?"

"Can…Can I tell you one more thing?"

"Of course."

Apollo grabbed his bracelet, and twisted it around his arm—Klavier vaguely wondered how he ever got it off, it seemed to fit so perfectly. "Earlier, at dinner… You asked me about my family."

"…Ah…" Klavier shifted so he could get a better look at the brunette. "And you said you were an orphan."

"Mm." He wasn't meeting the blond's eyes.

"I notice you twist your bracelet when you talk about this, though. Is that one of the nervous habits you seem to sense without even blinking?"

Apollo tensed against him, but relaxed almost as quickly. "…Yeah, probably. I…I lied."

Klavier blinked. "You…lied?"

"When I said I was an orphan… I… I found out last month that I'm… I'm not." Did he have tears in his eyes? "My mother… My mother reappeared."

"W-Wait… Your mother…?" Klavier gasped.

"She came to the agency last month and told me." Apollo looked pointedly at his hands. "My dad's dead, apparently. He died in an accident… My Mom was forced to give me to an orphanage by my grandfather. She gave me this bracelet, though. It's an heirloom in her family, she said. There's only two of them...she gave me this one so she could find me again."

"You…" Klavier really was lost for words. "You're not an orphan anymore…"

"No. She lost her memory for a long time, so that's why she didn't find me sooner." Apollo leaned his head back, examining the ceiling. "She told me something else, too."

Klavier had a feeling what that was. "Your real last name?" That had come up at dinner… the prosecutor distinctly remembered Apollo strangling his wrist at that point.

"Yes." He closed his eyes with a light smirk. "Turns out it's not actually Justice, shockingly, though I intend to keep using that name to avoid legal issues."

Klavier flexed his neck slightly. "Then…what is it?"

"You'd never believe me."

"Try me."

"Gramarye."

Klavier looked like he'd just said the name of the president. "…You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. My mother's Thalassa Gramarye, sole daughter of _the_ Magnifi Gramarye." He looked back at the blond. "She's also Trucy's mother, turns out."

"The Fräulein magician? Phoenix Wright's adopted daughter? Wait, you don't mean—"

"We're half-siblings. Her father was one of our grandfather's pupils, where as my father was not." Apollo slumped slightly. "I don't just see people's ticks and subconscious twitches because I'm specially trained in any way. It's a Gramarye thing, apparently. We can all use this…sixth sense, I guess you could call it. It runs in our blood, and it's strongest in the firstborn child. The bracelets are actually used for focusing… I wouldn't know to focus on anything if my bracelet didn't suffocate my wrist when something was triggering my senses."

Klavier thought over that for long moment—Apollo Justice was actually the grandson of one of the greatest magicians of all time. And he could see through people because it was a strange ability that ran in his blood. Something occurred to him, though, something he'd heard on the news many years ago. "…But Thalassa Gramarye…didn't she die?"

"She lost her memory," Apollo corrected. "In an accident. She disappeared…probably because her dad—my…my grandfather—he probably smuggled her out of the country. At least, that's what she thinks…" He reached up and rubbed his face. "She also lost her sight in the accident. But now she has it back, which is part of the reason why she got her memories back, too."

"Lost her sight…?" Klavier found that statement oddly familiar.

Apollo looked more upset by the entire situation than Klavier had ever seen the brunette look before. "I'm sorry… I… I haven't told anyone about any of this. Only Mr. Wright and Trucy and my mother and I know any of this… We can't really let it be made public. Too much legal stuff."

Klavier wet his lips. "You said that before… how come?"

"Well," Apollo said, "Besides all the legal trouble with Trucy having the Gramarye performance rights… My Mom's famous. And not because she's a Gramarye…"

"Famous? Who is she? I may have met her…" Wouldn't that be crazy?

"I certainly hope you have, since you performed with her last year."

The prosecutor started. "Wait, I did? But I didn't have any female members of my band… Unless… wait, you don't mean—!"

"Lamiroir." Apollo scratched his neck, eyes slightly unfocused as he spoke. "She's Lamiroir, too."

"Are you serious?"

"Would I kid?" Apollo treated him to his best stare—a Gramarye stare. Klavier shuttered involuntarily. "She became Lamiroir while she was suffering from amnesia. But now she knows who she really is." He looked back down. "And I do, too…"

Klavier felt something wet on his shoulder, and he glanced down to see Apollo hurriedly wiping away tears with the back of his hand. "Apollo," he said softly.

"I-I'm sorry," the brunette gasped. "I…I just had something in my eye."

"You're a horrible liar, Apollo." Klavier wrapped him gently in his arms. "…Amazing how twisted up your life can get when you're not looking."

Apollo sniffed, trying to conceal the emotion that was not hiding itself very well. "Yeah, well… Stuff happens. So what if I'm actually a Gramarye? It doesn't matter. Trucy has the performance rights. I don't want anything to do with them. She's more than welcome to…to use them as she sees fit."

Klavier ran his hand up and down Apollo's back soothingly, feeling the attorney shake beneath his fingers. "Does she know all of this?" he asked.

"She knows we're siblings." The attorney sighed shakily. "And our mom's Lamiroir. But she doesn't know anything about what…what he did."

"He being… your grandfather?"

"I wish he were still alive!" Apollo spurted loudly, startling Klavier. "So I could punch him in his face!" He sat up slightly, flushed in the face, eyebrows furrowed in anger. "For making my Mom leave me!"

Klavier watched him, finding his voice stuck in his throat. Sure, he knew what it was like to be stabbed in the back by someone he cared about, but this was a whole new level of betrayal. "Apollo…"

"I…I…" Apollo was scrubbing at his traitorous eyes again with little avail. "I…hate him! I hate him! I hate him for everything he's done!"

He really was crying at this point, and Klavier felt the same surge of anger Apollo had to have been feeling. Sure, Magnifi Gramarye had been one of the best magicians in the world, but that didn't matter to Klavier if the man's actions in life were hurting _his_ Herr Forehead.

Klavier reached up, gently taking Apollo's hand away from his face, and wiping the tears with his jacket sleeve. "Don't cry," he ordered gently. "Apollo, please don't cry. It's not worth it. He's dead, and your mother's still here. She's alive, Apollo! You can't undo what's been done… But you can make best of what there is."

"How," Apollo sniffled, looking at Klavier with a mixture of embarrassment and despair. "How can I make best of this…?"

"You can have a mother now," Klavier replied. "And a sister! And Herr Wright basically thinks of you as a son… And you have me. Who needs grumpy old magicians when you have us? Just because your life's been filled with assholes doesn't mean it needs to be filled with them now!"

The attorney bit his lip, his deep brown eyes boring right through Klavier, despite the moisture that budded at their lids. "…when you have…" he whispered.

"Hmm?" Klavier prompted, brushing a loose strand of hair away from Apollo's forehead.

"Who needs family when you have friend drama like I do?" Apollo repeated. "I…I said that earlier at dinner." He turned his gaze to a spot on Klavier's shoulder. "That's the biggest lie, I guess. It's all family drama now… And romantic drama, too." He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck almost unconsciously. "At least…at least you guys don't beat me with beer bottles, for a start."

"Oh, Jesus," Klavier groaned. "Now you reminded me how much I want to punch that bastard foster parent of yours."

Apollo smiled at last, a small, innocent smile that was one of the happiest Klavier had ever seen on him. "Klavier… Thank you."

Klavier pulled the attorney back against him, pressing his lips square on the brunette's nose. "Hey, I love you, remember? So, now I have to do everything in my sparkly vampire power to make you happy. And now that I know everything that's troubling you, I can try and help you make things better. Starting with a chat, with that drunken idiot."

Apollo exhaled softly, resting back in the crook of Klavier's shoulder. "As long as you're there."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Apollo. And there's a lot of world out there."

Apollo murmured something, and shifted against Klavier, finding a more comfortable position while sitting on the prosecutor.

"Didn't catch that…" Klavier said.

"…I love you, too." Apollo nestled in at last, and Klavier soon felt the rhythmic breathing of the brunette.

Yes, Klavier Gavin had taken this day off to woo the most amazing man in the world.

And though the next day he'd probably be arrested for trying to assault a prisoner through a plastic wall, he knew this day had turned out just the way he'd wanted it to.

**And now I have practiced writing as them HURR DURR I love practicing. This is good since my next stories are all a lot darker.**

**Speaking of dark and angst I might write a sequel oneshot where they go talk to Mr. Drunk Idiot the Bastard blah blah and have an angst fest because you know what I'm. ANGSTING. *angst angst angst angst* …Only if people want it, though. Heh heh.**

**And for all my loyal readers who have probably given up hope that I'll ever even think about writing again, here, let me give you a paragraph or two or four from the current story I'm working on—it's Ace Attorney again, and it has Kristoph and a trash compactor, which instantly makes it awesome.**

"Then move, man!" the Chief snapped, clapping his hands together in front of my face, startling me. "Go!"

"J-Ja!" I gasped, before pocketing my cell phone and moving towards the door. I felt something change as I walked—my terror became my strength, my anger my most dangerous weapon. I was nigh unstoppable. Except for when I trip over chairs. Then I guess I'm stoppable.

I picked myself up off the floor and walked straight to Herr Wright. "I need to know where his house is," I said.

"Because I'm just going to tell you and then sit here and twiddle my thumbs," Phoenix growled. "I'm coming with you."

**And I won't spoil it more because that's no fun. Soon it will be published once I write enough of it that I can publish it and actually update it regularly. Hope it gives you something to look forward to!**

**With love,**

**the Moose.**


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